Remember Us
by Lost-Girl-Flying-High
Summary: The real tale of Peter Pan and his greatest adventure with Wendy: Remembering.
1. Chapter 1

"You won't forget me, Peter, will you?" Wendy asked the boy who was floating outside her window, just out of reach.

He promised that he never would and that someday soon they would go on grand adventures once more, but Wendy knew better.

He forgets everything, so why should plain Wendy Moira Angela Darling be remembered for anything other than her superbly long name. No, Peter would fly back to Neverland and go on adventures. Soon, Wendy would be nothing more than a faint glimmer, a dim star in the vast sky of Peter's mind, where space was imagination and stars were memories of things long since past.

But Wendy would never forget. She didn't forget things like he did, and she would always be empty, looking for adventures that would never come, with someone just out of sight.

Peter was sure that Wendy would forget him. He forgot things so often, in fact, that he even forgot that other people didn't do the thought that she would find adventures of her own and forget he ever existed.

They were both wrong. For a while, Wendy was still content thinking that Peter would come back to her, and Peter was content soaring above Neverland with Tinkerbell. Then things began to change. The acorn necklace which always adorned Wendy's neck began to lose its luster, and she no longer took the care in polishing it more often. The thimble which Peter carried with him always was beginning to dull as well. In fact, both items fell all but into disrepair, but their owners still did not part with them.

In time, the situation only grew darker. Tinkerbell, the only company of Peter in those dark days, had taken ill when a child stopped believing. It is a sad thing to say, but John was the first of the Darling children to stop believing, and it was in fact his utterance of the cursed phrase that sealed the poor fairy's fate.

Somewhere along the way, Wendy's spirit was broken, too, and she found that all of her happy memories now made her weep because they reminded her of Peter. Soon she found that she couldn't even make herself happy enough to get just a few inches above the ground to reach the top of the bookcase, let alone fly all the way to Neverland.

After losing Tink, Peter lost all sense of adventure, spending days, sometimes weeks alone in the old hiding place of the lost boys. Being so alone drove Peter slightly mad, most would say. Sad and alone and heartbroken, the boy would hold the thimble given to him so long ago and smile fondly. Sometimes he spoke to it as if Wendy would somehow hear what he was saying. Other times, he would sit on the tree tops and stare at the star that he had come to know as Wendy's star. The way to being talked to it, too, in the same manner as the thimble.

Unbeknownst to him, miles upon miles away, Wendy Darling still left the window open always. She sat there sometimes, starting out at the second star. Sometimes she would swear she caught a glimpse of him, but it never was. She spoke to the star as well, telling it what she would tell him, were he there with her.

Both did this very frequently, and they knew each other so well that it often sounded as though one was answering the other. Wendy knew this to be childish fancy, but Peter knew that he could hear Wendy.

Finally, after months of terrible silence, Peter packed his things and made the most terrifying decision of his life.

He was going to grow up.


	2. Chapter 2

It was half past two in the afternoon on yet another dreary, rainy, windy Thursday that Wendy Darling, older now- the same age as Peter, which happened to be 13- was walking home with her brothers who were all just as bundled up as she was, as it was quite cold out that day. John and Michael were arguing bitterly about something, but Wendy kept silent. She learned a long time ago not to try and stop them, so she walked contentedly along, watching the clouds run through the skies. The wind picked up, sending Wendy's hat spiraling out of reach. She tried to chase after it, but it went too fast and too far for her to catch up without flying, a skill that she'd long since abandoned hope of regaining. She sighed dejectedly and trudged on behind the boys, her face beginning to turn red from the cold.

The Darling children all made it home without further incident, and immediately went their separate ways, John going to read of the fierce pirates of the earth instead of Hook and his crew, Michael going to play Indians by himself but he now thought of real ones instead of Tigerlily and her tribe, Wendy going to the old nursery which was now her room and sitting by the still-open window reading a book about Peter Pan himself, and laughing at the thought of how large his ego would grow to be if he knew there were books about him.

It was true, all of the children had changed, for better or worse. They had grown up and put the nonsense of Neverland behind them. All except Wendy. She had grown up, that much was true, but she believed that one was never to grow so much as to forget that Neverland was real, and especially not to forget Peter Pan. So there she sat and read until Nana called them for dinner. Nana was ever so old now, and could no longer get up the stairs to gather the children for dinner, and had thusly come up with this system: one bark meant wake up, two meant breakfast, three meant lunch (which only happened on weekends because of the childrens' schooling), four meant dinner, five meant it was time for baths, and six (the final one) meant time for bed.

After dinner, something she didn't bother with much anymore, Wendy went straight back to the nursery, and found a sight that assured her she was dreaming, for there, sitting cross-legged, on the end of her bed, twirling her gray hat hat in his hands was the one and only Peter Pan, looking just as he did when they left Neverland, but ever so much more sad. Seeing her, Peter jumped to his feet, running to her, picking her up in a tight hug, and twirling her round the room before finally letting her back down.

"Did you miss me, Wendy Lady?" Peter asked with a grin.

Wendy replied only with a frown and some inaudible words about nonsense, pinching her arm, attempting to wake herself.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, unsure of why she wasn't happy to see him.

"I'm waking myself up. This is all a dream. I have them so often, you know. I almost thought it was real, too," Wendy replied, crossing her arms.

"But it is," Peter said, "I'm right here."

Wendy stumbled back, tears in her eyes. "Don't lie to me."

"It's not a lie, and you aren't asleep," Peter said to her.

"I - I can't believe that. This happens so often in my dreams that I should think I wouldn't know the difference if it was real."

"I see that," Peter replied sassily.

Slowly, it registered in Wendy's mind and her face grew into a grin so bright it might've out shined the stars and she hugged him again tightly for fear that he might disappear if she let go even for a moment. "But why are you here? Have you come to take me back to Neverland? " She asked excitedly.

He had half a mind to say yes and whisk her away to Neverland right then and there, but he had promised himself that he wouldn't take her away from her family again because then she'd be lonely and sad. And that's the opposite of what he wanted.

"No, Wendy-lady," He replied solemnly.

"Then why are you here?" She asked.

"I have come because I was so very alone. Tinkerbell died before the spring, and the lost boys are gone, too. And I...I can't be alone alone like that, wendy-lady. And I realized that Neverland isn't where I belong anymore. Where I belong is anywhere and everywhere you are because you make the lonely go away. So, wendy-lady, I have come to grow up with you, if you'll have me."


	3. Chapter 3

"No, no, absolutely not!" Wendy screamed, backing Peter towards the window. She didn't know what had gotten into him, but she knew she wasn't okay with it."You can't grow up! You're the only one who doesn't have to, and you'd throw that away for what?! School? A job? A-"

"A life. A home. A family. You. That's what's worth growing up for. It's worth giving up all my adventures to never be alone again," Peter replied, and in that moment, Wendy knew that she couldn't stop him. In that instant, he had already grown up. He couldn't go back. Not now, not ever.

And she knew that this was all because of her. That broke her tiny little heart in two, and she almost began to sob. "But you live for your adventures," She argued.

"But don't you see, Wendy-lady? To live shall be the greatest adventure of all. And you'll be there, too. Our adventure hasn't even started out, my little wendy-bird, so stop crying and have a little fun," Peter smiled, drying her tears. of course, he wanted to be selfish and take her back to neverland with him. He wanted Tinkerbell back. He wanted John and Michael to be little forever. He wanted their old adventures back. But what one wants to be and what one wants to be as it once was are two entirely different things. Peter missed his old life, but what he really wanted was this new adventure with Wendy.

And truth be told, he was terrified. To a boy who had never been afraid of pirates, the very idea of textbooks chilled him to the bone. To a boy who could fly, being grounded was like dying. To a boy who had always been able to run, standing still was torture. But to a boy who had been so alone as he had, being loved was so amazing, and that's why it was so, so worth it for him to stay. It wasn't the real food, or the warm beds, or the glowing streetlights, or the the wonderful books, or the bustling cities that enchanted him so. It was Wendy, and the way that he didn't feel alone anymore, and the way that she made him feel like everything would be okay as long as they were together, and that the world was full of color instead of set in grayscale when she was around, and that suddenly he didn't need to dream or imagine things anymore because suddenly real life was better than anything he could ever come up with as long as she was near.

In short, he was in love. She was his everything, his best friend, his equal, and that was something that he had never thought about anyone before. He didn't feel entirely romantic towards her, but he loved her. So much so, that if anything awful were to befall her, he would cease to exist entirely. He couldn't live without her. He couldn't live a life that lonely. He couldn't, and he wouldn't.

"Now, come on Wendy-lady, let's go," Peter grinned, holding out his hand to her.

"But Peter, where are we going?" Wendy asked, placing her hand in his.

"Flying. Just one more time, Wendy-bird. I know it's your favorite thing. Anywhere you want, let's go," Peter grinned, rising a few inches off the floor.

"B-but, Peter, I...I can't fly anymore," Wendy said sadly.

"What're you talking about, silly? You're flying right now!" Peter exclaimed. And it was true! Wendy looked down and found herself slowly rising into the air.

Off they flew, to everywhere and nowhere and all the places in between.

They reached home just before sunrise, laughing and talking. They'd had such a lovely time, and neither had felt so happy since the golden age of neverland.

And such ended the last flight of Peter Pan and Wendy Darling.


	4. Chapter 4

"See? You just hold it like this, and you move it on the paper to make letters. When it stops writing, you dip it in the ink right there and then it'll work again," Wendy explained, handing the metal-tipped pen to Peter, who tried very hard to copy the alphabet Wendy had written down on the top of the page. She'd tried her best to draw the letters as simple as possible, but even so, he still couldn't seem to make the pen cooperate with him enough to write them. It had become apparent in the two weeks since he'd begun living with the Darling family that nothing came easily to Peter in the real world. Reading, writing, eating real food, even staying on the ground was a challenge to him.

"This is impossible!" Peter declared, flinging the pen across the room. It flew like a dart, and the metal tip pierced through the wall, leaving it stuck there. Wendy, who'd been a bit too close to the pen's flight path, had been grazed by it as it passed, and held a hand up to the now bloody cut just under her eye on her right cheek. She pulled her hand away, and upon finding it covered in blood, she calmly walked to the wash basin in her vanity, dipped a rag in the pitcher of water that sat next to it and began wiping the blood away from the cut, inhaling sharply at the stinging pain. Peter, who had previously been continuing his temper tantrum over the pen, heard her gasp, and turned to see what had happened. She wasn't facing him, but he could see her reflection in the mirror. Her face was bleeding and her eyes were frightened. Had he done this?

" Wendy-bird?" He called softly, and she flinched slightly as he stepped toward her.

"I - I'm fine Peter," Wendy answered shakily. Peter crossed the room and gently turned her to face him.

"No you aren't Wendy," Peter replied. "Did I do this to you?" He asked shamefully, not looking her in the eyes.

"It's okay, you didn't mean to, I know that. You were just upset and-"

"-And that makes it okay to hurt you? " He asked. His harsh tone made her shy away, and he immediately regretted it. "It's not okay, Wendy. It will never be okay. It doesn't matter who it is, no one gets to hurt my Wendy-Bird, and it especially shouldn't be me."

"It's okay, I'm okay. I promise," Wendy said, pulling him into a hug. He couldn't believe he'd done this to her, and he was going to make absolutely sure that it would never happen again.

"Okay, so, back to writing!" Wendy laughed, changing the subject. Peter laughed, following her back to the table and sitting next to her. He still struggled to write like she did, and she suddenly had a bit of a realization. "Try using your other hand," Wendy suggested. He looked at her like she'd grown a second head, but did as she said anyway, and the minute the pen was in his left hand, it was like a light went on. He wasn't instantly great at writing, but at least his letters looked like letters now and not illegible chicken scratches.

His face lit up like it was Christmas morning, which made Wendy smile. He stood abruptly, picking Wendy up by the waist and twirling her around, making her giggle and blush. "Wendy-lady, you're a genius!" He exclaimed, setting her lightly on her feet.

"I wouldn't go quite that far, but thank you," Wendy answered, a light pink blush creeping over her features.

A quick couple of barks from Nana meant it was time for dinner, and so the two headed downstairs. Dinner was as uneventful as it always was, and soon it was time for all the children to go to bed. Peter, John, and Michael headed off to their room and Wendy went to hers, and they all went straight to bed. There were never any of Wendy's famous bedtime stories anymore, since they were all "too old for such nonsense" (at least that's what father said.) Nightlights were a thing of the past as well. So, Wendy, who always had trouble sleeping, sat in her bed with a candle on the nightstand, and picked up her embroidery, something she did often during those days. Father embraced it whole-heartedly because it was such a demure, ladylike habit, and Mother was alright with it because it at least gave her something to keep her mind occupied.

A few hours later, Wendy was half-asleep in her bed when the door creaked open, then shut. Soft footsteps made their way to the window seat, and their owner looked out at their star. The only important one in the whole sky. And he made a promise. A promise that one day, they'd go back to their star, together, and have so many grand adventures. But that day wasn't today, and he'd promise that every day, he'd make the same promise. Then he tiptoed back across the room to Wendy's bed, where he leaned over and placed a soft kiss to her forehead, before creeping out of the room and back to bed, leaving Wendy with a smile and a bright red blush on her face.


End file.
